Cornfield Revenge
by LatinaGirlMeows13
Summary: The League of Shadows search for the child of their dead leader, using the Scarecrow to come up with the perfect revenge. Will she come out of this sane, or is she another casualty of Gotham's life style? Bruce realizes he can't save everyone. Crane/OC
1. Calling All Scarecrows

**Hey Guys!**

**I'm a big Scarecrow fan, (He's smexy.)so I decided to write my own fic on him.**

**My first attempt, which I thankfully didn't post, was the POV of one of his small town high school friends, and the signs of madness she sees in him that no one else seems (Or wants) to notice. The passion for that one quickly died. On the other hand, I had a story of the daughter of Raz-Al-Ghoul, and how she doesn't want to become the vigilante he did. The problem with that is that I _like_**** vigilantes!**

**They met, fell, and gave birth to this little wonder. My cute, deranged, spawn of Satan love-child. And she is a very evil thing in her terrible twos, destroying everything in her path...**

**How I love her...**

**Oh, for those of you who are impatient for Forest of Names to keep going (I love how I named that last chapter, and left you hanging!) just wait a little bit. I'm having a sudden writer block on that one because I know where I want to go, but not how to get there.**

**D/C: I don't own Batman Begins Or Dark Knight. (This is right before Dark Knight, and COMPLETELY AU)I also don't own Cillian Murphy, though if I did... drool Wha-, oh, here let me dry you off. Sorry thathappensevery timeI think of... _him..._**** stare off into space, mouth open Wha- Sorry!**

**Peachy. Lets get on with this!**

Raz-Al-Ghoul's last request before they went to destroy Gotham was that his daughter would lead the League of Shadows were he to die. He'd only recently learned of her existence, that his wife had gone into labor, then hid the newborn child before she had been killed. Killed by fanatics. Who knew?

His order had shocked his students. Their master hadn't even found out her new name, or who had adopted her. Hell, even if she was really still alive. Just a talk with the village mid-wife who'd spun her tail for a few bucks. Then there was the fact that the girl would have no training, she could even be a criminal herself. But what Raz-Al-Ghoul said told them was law.

Even if he was gone.

Chamberlin sighed from the head of the table. He'd been leading temporarily. His old teacher, and friend, had left him the contacts he needed to find her. This meeting between the section leaders was grueling, and he had the nagging suspicion that all of it was going to get even worse.

There wasn't much left for her to command anyway. The last battle for justice and balance had wiped out most of their supplies, left their numbers diminished. Many were arrested before they could get off the island, and those of the foot solders escaping capture were scattered, waiting for the call to action. The call was soon in coming. But first, a few non-metaphorical ones to certain lucky people. Or unlucky. Depended on whether they agreed or not. Actually, more like whether they did it the first time, or after some forceful persuasion. How droll.

He sighed again and picked up a cell phone. Three other pairs of black eyes watched him, looking to him for guidance. None of them were taking this death lightly. They were four of the six Raz-Al-Ghouls had personally recruited, trained, and initiated. His first student was dead. The sixth and final one was running around dressed as a giant bat. And they were trying to find their one true leader on a planet of 6 billion strong.

Question was, which ones were more screwed.

The temporary leader started dialing. The League had contacts in hospitals and clinics all over the world. But first Chamberlain had to find to the man who could make the perfect revenge. As he dialed, he nodded in grim memorandum.

If Raz-Al-Ghoul's daughter had ever taken a blood test, they would find her. They would find her, mold her in her father's image. Train her and teach her the fire of grief. She would mourn her father...

And then she would pull down Gotham piece by piece.

**Crane's POV**

Petty crime didn't suit ex-Doctor Jonathan Crane. He was a man of elegant ingenuity, master of fear. His works had caused Gotham to shake its very foundations in pure terror.And now he was reduced to robbing banks with pregnant and desperate women as his hit men.

Amazing what could happen in a half-hour of tazer/fear gas induced delirium.

He really should write a book on it. Could provide some interesting in site.

His hair was now kept more often in his face then not. His glasses had gained a few scratches, and he was having a hard time keeping his nails in check. Still, Crane dressed in his fancy suits and ties, always looking his best for the public. Clean body, soiled mind. He had that instant effect on the indigenous people, who knew him best as 'Scarecrow.'

But there was a problem. It wasn't the fear gas. He managed to stay ahead, mutating it so the antidote Batman had created before was useless. Just a few switched molecules, and Batman couldn't do a thing. And it wasn't the fiances. Sure, his improved gas was much more expensive to make then the original. But he could steal the money, or just the ingredients right off the dealers.

No. The problem was that Jonathan Crane was bored. Incurably, totally bored. There was nothing to do but wait. Batman was taking out everyone on the streets, and so far there was not anyone who felt the urge for complete chaos that he instinctively craved. (Except the Joker, but his chaos was different. He couldn't control himself long enough to do what was needed, always acting on impulse.)Crane was smart enough to know he needed someone to partner with. But so far, there was none.

So when he got that call from Chamberlain, directly into his hideout, (He still didn't know how he was found.) Crane listened eagerly to the request.

The man wanted alternatives for the fear gas. It had taken allot of kidnapping just to alter it to its current state.

"Alternatives? In what way?" He'd asked. The voice on the other end turned husky with pent rage.

"Another way to release it. Gotham needs to die, in the way Raz-Al-Ghoul intended it. It's a breeding ground of injustice, a smudge of darkness on humanity's time-line and it must be cleansed." _Shit, _these fanatics were insane. What he wouldn't give for just one to play with, see what makes them tick...

Of course, in the realm of sanity, the doctor had nothing over them. "There are ways... Perhaps in food..." Crane felt excitement bubble up in him like some sort of burner under his emotions had been lit. Something to do! And in the way of retaliation, too. He kept his voice flat and apathetic, however, playing hard to get. "But the needed ingredients are expensive-"

"Believe me Doctor Crane, you will get your funding. Use who you want." Chamberlin added before he could ask. "This is the perfect opportunity to get what you need in the way of... Recrimination. Anyone, but the Batman. He is to be saved for our new leader."

This surprised Crane. He'd thought Chamberlin was in control now. "...And who is that?" He questioned when the other didn't elaborate.

Silence on the opposite end. Then: "We have yet to find her. Get on your assignment."

Damnthey were crazy! The line disconnected audibly. Now, the smallest of smiles crept on his face. By most people, it was just a twitch of the lips.

Scarecrow had his pick of toys...

Goody.

**Hee hee! Now there's a scary thought. Scarecrow with his way paid to madness!**

**So who is this mysterious child of Raz-Al-Ghoul? Who will Scarecrow strike first? Where is she, and what's she got to do with how this story goes now? Tune in next time! ... Or maybe just later today.**

**Okay, from now one, the chapters have their own songs. No, it's not space filler. I'll still write a descent amount, I promise!**

**Review, or I'll sic a rabid Cupcake on you!...**

**Or just be sad...**


	2. Tails

**Rell-ro! I've disided to just give you the song and artist, so you can look it up. I would use .com for lyrics, YouTube for music.**

**Nine Days- Absolutely (Story Of A Girl). This is Val's theme, at first and this chapter's song.**

**I, unfortunately, own nothing but Val and her family. So, no sue.**

**This is the beginning of something I like. It's started to morph. Enjoy!**

Valerie B. Justine had no biological family. Facts of life, she supposed. She wasn't even sure where she was found in the first place. She looked American, hazel brown eyes and dark brown hair. Pale skin, induced by the pollution blocking most of the Gotham sun. So maybe America... Then again maybe not. Her earliest pictures were at an estimated one year. She'd sure as hell had a lot of hair for a baby. It could already be put in a ponytail. A short one, but still.

She'd been adopted by the Justines, who'd named her. They were a well off, Gotham-originated line. Millionaires. It was a fact Val was constantly reminded of. They didn't ask her what she wanted, just gave. Sometimes it was what she wanted. The horse, for example. And sometimes, it was the direct opposite. Like paying for the Ivy-League law school when she hadn't intended on being a lawyer in the first place.

Still, she was content. Enough. Her job wasn't the best, working along side Gotham's finest... Well, finest man-eating sharks, to be honest. Mr. and Mrs. Dad and Mom called and nagged a lot, and big brother Max was always somewhere near. Even though he didn't even work there. Val wasn't the kind to take those things with a grain of salt. And of course, she wondered who her parents were. It was always painfully obvious that blond, blue eyed Max wasn't her real brother, and that his equally Anglo-Saxon parents weren't hers ether, and she couldn't help but wish that her parents were still out there and cared.

But, at the 'estimated' age of 26, she'd made it through school, and becoming an assistant D.A. without ever truly stopping long enough to search. There wasn't really a chance she'd ever meet them, so why bother. That was her logic.

This isn't what the story is about, though Val's childhood was an extremely traumatising and equally interesting one. Nah. This is about the day her life totally changed. The day her boss and 'best friend,' Harvey Dent, told her he was proposing to his girlfriend.

* * *

When she heard the news, Val felt very smug. Rachel Dawes was a friend and co-worker of hers, and she'd introduced the two. HA! Once again, her match-making skills proved themselves able.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Harvey looked excited, like a boy who'd just bought a new toy. Val just grinned.

"Of course! She likes this kind of... Uh, stuff." The ring would be attractive on Rachel, but personally she thought was the ugliest thing she's ever seen. But it wasn't for her, and Ms. Dawes liked gold a damn slight more then she did.

"I'm nervous." He looked it, fidgeting with the box. "If she says no..." There was a sudden look in his eye that Val recognized with dread.

"Harvey... Are you sure _you're_ ready?" Her tone implied her meaning. Dent pulled out 'the' coin. Val had given him it when he turn sixteen. Seeing it made her skin turn icy. She knew that was the control. "Because, if it happens..." Her voice was slightly shaky. Damn, would it never end? "Judge's Honor, I won't help you." But she knew she would, like every time before, she never told.

His fingers twitched, as though he were to flip the coin, but Dent stopped himself. "It won't." He slowly slipped the coin back into his pocket. "It won't."

Val relaxed a bit. It seemed like he was relying less and less on chance, taking control of his life. So much the better. For them both. For _her._

"Right. Then off you go. Don't want to miss your big date!"

**Crane's POV**

The camera focused on the slim brunette speaking with Harvey Dent. Crane rose his eyebrows. It wasn't Rachel Dawes. This made him ponder. Who was he talking to?

Two hours later, after a bit of digging and paying up, he found she was Valerie Brenda Justine. An unfortunate name, which was why, it seemed, she went by Val. It also seemed she was a good friend of Ms. Dawes. And she'd known Harvey since they were five. Once again, the doctor gave a lip twitch. Interesting.

Dent had gotten on Jonathan's nerves when he'd continued to prosecute him after the Insane Plea had been activated. Miss Dawes, of course had shot him in the face with a taser. He wasn't happy about that ether. Now they were together. They _deserve_ each other. It personally made him sick.

Another interesting fact about Miss Justine. She'd introduced them. Hmm... Now Crane stared at the glancing picture of her in the file gathered by her co-workers and combined permanent record. She was a link between two very irritating people. 'Val' also had a bit of a history in the way of hospital bills, a pattern of domestic violence. But her parents were never around, and her adopted brother was at military school. It was almost like she'd abused herself.

"Doc." Victor Szas spoke. Jonathan had broken him out of jail with the help of the League. "This girl. She's the target, right? Because," The criminal sounded annoyed. "I didn't do all this diggin' for nothing!"

The sickly smile flickered across Scarecrow's face.

"I can assure you, Mr. Szas, that this is all for a purpose." He ran his fingers across the photo, contemplating. She was in the parking lot, going to her car to go out to lunch. By herself, and something was on her mind. She looked so sad, though it sounded like she had denied several offers of food with friends. Stressed, she had said twice to their janitorial source. Needed time to get her thoughts straightened.

"So... she's the target?" This newest employee sounded confused.

Val. So very sad, so very... _alone._"Yes, I believe she is." Szas gave that sick, demented smile and leaned back in his chair. Crane only nodded, looking from the picture to security camera.

Looked like he'd found his newest toy.

**Val POV. One week later.**

The office coffee was horrible. What she wouldn't give for a little Starbucks! Her hands shook slightly. Damn, she was going through caffeine withdrawal or something. Lately she couldn't go without it.

It was the waiting. The waiting was killing her.

Rachel had said maybe. Harvey was perfectly calm about it, ("It's a big decision. I can wait.") but Val couldn't escape the tension filling her body as she waited. So far, she'd cried herself to sleep each night, praying for Dawes to just say yes. It was ridiculous. He wouldn't.... Not this time. He was getting so much better!

But the nightmares were driving her crazy. What would happen if-

"Val!"

The coffee cup slipped from her fingers, smashing to the ground. She spun, looking terrified, to Al Malone's amazement. He worked as a janitor, and was that floor's mail-man every Thursday. And he was not Harvey.

"Oh shit!" She bent down and started picking up the pieces of white mug. "That wasn't mine-"

"I'll get it." Al got on his knees too, helping her. She took the shards he held and threw them away when they were done. He looked at her oddly.

"Are you okay Val?" She nodded hurriedly. "You've been so uptight lately!"

"Yeah, I'm good, just-" Her hands shaking was covered with a gesture. "Just stress. I've been pressured lately."

"I can _tell_!" As she filled a Styrofoam cup (She hated to use those.) He added. "What kind of pressure."

"I don't know," Was all Val could say. She downed the coffee black, (Something she also hated to do.) and smiled nervously. "Got to go, some new files on escaped criminals. Prep, you know. They think they know where Victor Szas is. I'm gonna get the job. Lucky me." Rolling her eyes, she almost ran out.

Malone watched her go, then pulled out a tape recorder from his sleeve and pressed stop. Scarecrow would get it soon.

Val rubbed her face as soon as she was safe in her little office. The 'cube' she called it, because it was no bigger then a cubicle. She might as well have been using one instead. Her cheeks tingled as she stimulated the veins. She was so hungry, but couldn't eat with worry. It was so unhealthy. But not as bad as the rest. Was being a best friend as straining to everyone? No, she supposed not. Not everyones friend had... Problems.

It was so hard sometimes. Val was frightened of him, and loved him. Platonic love. She just wanted to help him. He needed help, but wouldn't take it from anyone but her. Like she was... Owned, or controlled by him. A pet of Harvey's and what had happened to his other pets?

Shuddering, she stood with her back to the open door, looking at her newly arrived files. So wrapped up, she didn't hear Harvey walk in, shadow thrown against her wall.

"Val." She spun, backing up against her desk. Dent closed her door.

"Harvey! I didn't know you were there!" Her stomach dropped. In his fingers, she could see the flashing of silver. "So... Need anything?" Heart going wild with terror, she saw he wasn't looking at her.

"Rachel talked to me." Val felt cold flash across her chest.

"A-and?"

"She said no. She's not _ready._" Oh God! Harvey watched the coin catch light and reflect it. Over and over. She could say a word. Her mind screamed 'Put it away! Put it away!' but her voice was gone.

Slowly, hesitantly, Harvey Dent tossed the Judge up. As it flipped, Val could only stare. 'Please be heads, heads, heads.' The light was going black in her peripheral vision. Val could only she the Judge, the coin spinning in the air. Suddenly, it landed in her 'best friend's' hand, and he slapped it onto the other. Even slower, he lifted it so she could see.

It landed tails.

Shit.

All Val could do was take a breath before two hands slammed into her shoulders.

Crane jumped up from his seat, his hands slamming into the desk. Victor Szas, just as bored as he'd been five minutes into the watch, looked up in amazement. His boss was staring in horror at the office screen.

Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight, the perfect D.A., had just knocked his new 'ward' down like she was just a rag doll. His pupils were dilated in rage. How _dare_ he!

Over the past couple of weeks, Crane had found himself more and more fascinated with his experiment. He'd stretched the control period from a day to a week, in the hopes he'd see more of her. In the back of his mind, Crane was worried that it was more then common interest, but that was shoved aside. It had gotten to the point where the giggles of Szas when she changed in her room turned to the henchman being sent out of the room. That was just him looking out for her, which was desturbing him slightly. Crane never watched that, even after Szas complained she was always facing the other way. And when Victor did... Scarecrow got _very _angry. Even his toys got privacy.

And now he realized what the hospital bills spelled out, something even he, an enemy of Dent's, didn't want to see. Harvey Deny was physically abusing his life-long 'friend.'

Scarecrow was _very, **very** angry._

_Crane picked up his cell-phone and called Al. "Mr. Malone. Call the police. Miss. Justine is in danger." He hung up before Al could even ask. Now his nail were digging into the wood as Harvey walked away._

_Val was arranged so he could see every inch of her. And she was sprawled on the floor, blood running from the back of her head, which had hit both her desk, and the extra chair where she sometimes sat clients. He watched Al run in and check her pulse, Miss Dawes join, Dent coming back in and pretend he didn't know a thing. Crane watched her be revived and carried out on a stretcher. He heard the story. A fall._

_Later, after moving their location and reconnecting all the cameras to his laptop, Crane watched her walk in her house, lay down without changing, and cry herself to sleep. Again._

_And now Scarecrow was more then angry._

_He was fu--ing pissed!_


End file.
